


Love Is the Light In Your Face

by Thistlerose



Category: Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)
Genre: F/M, Morning After, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watts sleeps in her diamonds, and nothing else.  The morning after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is the Light In Your Face

Watts slept in her diamonds, and nothing else. Half-hidden by her ruffled hair, they sparkled in the dawn light that seeped through the patchwork curtains and turned her skin the color of apple blossoms. She smelled faintly of apples too, which surprised Keith because he hadn't noticed it last night, and scented soap didn't seem like a Watts thing.

But neither did mascara, and there it was, caking her lashes and staining her cheeks. Keith wanted to rub it away with the pad of his thumb, but he was loath to wake her; he was enjoying watching her sleep, and there was still a little time before his parents realized he hadn't come home after his date with Amanda.

He wondered briefly how Amanda had gotten home after he'd left her outside Hardy's place. He and Watts hadn't seen her when they'd gone back for the Mercedes. He hoped she was all right, decided she probably was. If Hardy tried anything – well, Duncan would break his face. _Amanda_ would break his face, Keith thought with a grin.

Then Watts frowned and turned her head slightly and Keith stopped thinking about Amanda.

 

She slept until one of her brothers – Keith didn't know which – came home and started opening and slamming drawers and cabinet doors in the kitchen. She flinched, then muttered, "Oh, damn."

Keith unfolded his stiff limbs and shifted closer to her. The mattress springs squeaked. "G'morning."

Watts scrubbed her face with her knuckles. "Knew this makeup was a dumb idea."

"You look beautiful," said Keith.

"You're stupid," said Watts, opening her eyes. "How many times've I gotta tell you that?"

"You love me," countered Keith. Saying it felt good. "What does that make you?"

"I dunno," said Watts. "_Really_ stupid, I guess." She rolled into his arms. First they bumped foreheads, then noses, then lips, and the lips stayed together for quite some time.

*

Even so, he made it home before his parents woke up. He took off his shoes in the front hall and padded quietly up the stairs. When he reached the landing, he thought he'd made it and sighed with relief. Then he unlocked his bedroom door and almost shouted.

"That's right, assface," said his sister Laura. She was perched at the foot of his bed, looking tired but smug. "Make a whole bunch of noise and wake Mom and Dad. I'm sure they'd love to know that you—"

"_Out_," said Keith.

"Since you're as pasty as ever," Laura went on, "I'm guessing Hardy didn't beat you to a pulp. Tell me what happened. Come on, you _know_ it's gonna be all over school on Monday. You might as well tell me. That way, I can—"

"Laura," said Keith, "are you here to make sure I got home okay, or to give me a hard time?"

She blinked innocently. "Can't I do both?"

"Out," Keith said again.

"But—"

"Out."

He didn't raise his voice or take a step toward her, but she closed her mouth, shrugged, and slid off the bed. He waited, eyebrows raised, while she made a show of smoothing her oversized Duran Duran t-shirt and patting her curls. "I'm _going_," she said.

But she paused in the doorway and looked up at him. "I'm glad you didn't get beaten to a pulp," she said. "And I guess I'm glad – well, I _hope_ things went okay with Amanda."

"They did," said Keith truthfully. Then he gave her a gentle shove and closed the door after her.

 

Keith changed into a t-shirt and jeans, and got out his sketchpad. Remembering the dark smudges under Watts's eyes, he reached first for his box of charcoals. But then he started thinking about the way her skin had looked in the early morning light, and all the different shades of gold in her hair, and he pushed the charcoals aside and went for the oils.

He didn't know how to paint Watts, he realized. How do you paint your own future? He couldn't just reproduce her face and body, as he'd done with Amanda. There was the curve of her hips, which had fit his cupped hands so surprisingly well the first time they'd kissed. The tears on her cheeks, and then his lips. The white blur of her hands beating her drums, beating the rhythm of his heart.

2.22.2008


End file.
